My son died suddenly and unexpectedly when he was only 9 days old. We could tell something was wrong with our precious baby at around 5:30am, he seemed pale. He had his doctor’s appointment scheduled at 8:30 that morning, but we decided that my husband was going to go ahead and take him to the emergency room. We just knew something was off. I was really sick with CMV and heart failure as we discovered later, so Jonathan was getting Micah ready to go to the ER. As Jonathan was putting Micah in the car seat, Micah began to spit up and had difficulty breathing. When Jonathan turned Micah over to burp him, Micah went limp and stopped breathing. He called 911 and immediately began CPR to try and save Micah’s life. Jonathan held Micah in his arms and watched as he took his last breath. Jonathan wrote a poem called “A Father’s Grip” that I would love to share.
A Father’s Grip
Proud, passionate, protector, provider
Promise to a wife to stand firm beside her
A father’s grip is strong and with purpose
Power personified and love beneath the surface
Strong enough to endure the dark of the night
Strong enough to make the worst seem alright
Gentle enough to hold a precious wife
Gentle enough to hold a fragile little life
But what is a grip when there’s nothing to hold
A wife’s broken heart and shattered soul
The only grip she feels is the crush of her spirit.
One more breath, one more cry, just to hear it
A memory, a dream, a touch, no longer of this earth
Wondering “why him, I should have been first”
The grip of destruction devouring my chest
I want my grip to show both all my love all my best
But what is truly a man that is father, once, now lost
I pray I could, bring him back no matter the cost
A mother carries the burden and bears the scar
A father can only feel the grip of anger and pain thus far
Helpless and hopeless with nothing to grasp
How unfair, it was in my grip he would take his last gasp
Head down and questioning every move made
How could I not provide the very breath that saved
Something so precious and that was so loved to death
It is only the promise to his mother that I have left
Passion faded and purpose lost, it was her power that kept me alive
To honor him it is in her grip that gives me the drive
A father’s grip is only as strong as his purpose and his love
I think God for sending me a wife my guardian angel from above
– Jonathan Wells
- Writing as therapy - September 4, 2015
- Isolation - August 10, 2015
- Letting Yourself Cry - July 10, 2015